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The Alibi RoomBuzzing lights, smooth music, good-looking people, what more could you want to make up your night?
The joint was called the Alibi Room. It's the kind of place people line up for blocks hoping to get past the necktied brick wall acting as the doorman. The wall which would only move if a folded up bill with enough weight was slipped into the chink which suspiciously resembled his ham sized hand. If you were lucky enough to get inside, you'd find music to wash across your skin like a warm breeze. Comforting, and relaxing, like you had sat down by a fire from being out in the freezing cold. That's what brings people there, the music. Nothing like it in the whole world, the band up on stage, trumpets, saxophones, bass cello's, and the piano decorated with the singer for the night. As she sings it draws you into that music and nothing else exists.
There was a guy, new to town and he looked like a little pup complete with big, lost eyes.&
Behind YourselfHow to feel
Just an apparition
That everyone looks through
Their eyes seeing nothing
No one seeing the real you
Always a face
Never a smile
Showing the world a facade
As you scream behind the mask
It hits the ground
Shattering into the million awaiting pieces
But everyone tenses
Seeing a strange face
That's been there all along
A smile that's never been seen
And still nothing changes
Clones go back to their copying
As you sit and smile
Not caring as once before
They saw you
Even just once
You and not the drone wearing a mask
Walk over the shattered pieces of your past
And into the light a new
IdleYou were always there but now you're nothing but idle
Standing by and watching me breaking down in pieces like a shattered mirror.
My heart is shards that crumble to the ground never being able to be put back together.
Don't you see me screaming and beating against the glass for you?
It seems sometimes you're so far away but in truth you've never even moved
You're just idle watching as the ground gives way
I fall again without you to catch me like before.
I fall into emptiness and reach for you in vain
Hoping that you'll do the same but you just stare.
Watching as you start to fade it's my turn to stand here idle and let myself become numb getting rid of all the feelings of heartache and pain.
My black tears freezing to my face as I stand
Watching you slip away forever.
Just for OnceTime cries and so do I
Both feeling pain
And both being ignored.
Just for once
Please someone notice
The war going on inside
The worlds so cold
It freezes my tears.
I'm so tired
Let me rest
And give me one moment
When I don't feel like this
One moment to not feel the pressure
One moment to cry without being questioned
And just one moment to lie inside myself
Closing my eyes to feel some warmth
And not feel the piercing on my skin
For one time only.
But no one stops
Not for anything
Not even for the inner child crying along on the corner
Think about more than yourself for once
And maybe you'd see the pain in my eyes.
Is There a DifferenceTake this time
And multiply it by five
You don't get a number
but maybe a fire
It rains down like tears
For those who don't resemble a few
Countries are tigers
Ripping at each other
All saying who is where and where is what
Making believe they are not what they seem
But are far worse than anyone can see
Some say it is getting better
But others know the truth
Though they are afraid to be caught and to be broken
Like a wild animal, sedated and caged
Their eyes glaze over as free thoughts
Slowly drift into nothing but a childs playtime story.
Mistress Darkthe beautiful woman,
under whom so many of us study.
Pleasing is the sensation of self inflicted pain.
No matter the medium;
metal to an arm,
bile breaking a throat,
repetitions of St. Agnes.
Like God she gazes, prideful of that which she has created,
and she says it is good.
We see the twisting grin,
the bust that swells.
Repeat our actions we must
a thousand times.
Until our bodies refuse to flinch,
reveal no pain.
Then we can show her; the mistress to Beelzebub,
we too may master the art of sweet agony.
The Dark Lady will point a chapped finger,
more she will push for
Lady Death gives opiates to the masses;
blinded and willing, in turn the masses
shackle the bodies, naked to the ceiling.
Willing to feel Lady Sting, Lady Scorch.
Longing to die for her,
in both fire and ice.
Revelations would hit her, manifestations.
Lady Masochism will fall silent,
at this precious epiphany,
'there are other masters of her art.'
Flee from the WolvesSnow lay like a thick, cold, and glistening blanket of white over the dense mountain forest. Silence fills the weighted evergreens and winter stripped oaks until the beauty of the scene is almost that of a delicate painting hung in some enchanted gallery. Long since has the last sparrow flown southward taking with it the gentle sweetness of its song, and the chattering, red brown squirrel is nestled in his warm tree trunk home, safe from the chill of winter.
I am truly alone.
I lie now on a pallet of soft snow in a small crevice formed by the trunks of two fallen trees. A stiff icy breeze has just stopped blowing and the last few crystals of ice shaken free from their tree limb homes are settling gently to the ground.
My teeth are clenched tightly over the collar of my thick, leather coat, and the ache that often causes in my gums helps to distract my mind from the agony in my right leg as I pull the blood soaked knot on the rude, rough, wood splint tighter and tighter. The pain in my
NoneTo live through death - to die through life - to give while wanting - to trust while being deceived. To be broken - to be lost - to be starved. To stand here naked before the world - here are my flaws - my scars. I have nothing to hide - nothing to show - nothing to keep - nothing to let go. So take it all. You know you want it. I give it to you so you don't have to steal it. It's already broken so you don't have to worry about breaking it. No need to be gentle, no need to be soft, if you feel the need to rip it out by all means do so. At least then maybe I'd feel it.
None..Frozen in this state of madness, looking for a familiar face, but all I see are children that are as mangled as I. Searching in this desolate place only leads to more questions. Questions I can' t comprehend. Questions that never end. The answers rest in locked minds. Keys safely lost amidst the sown mouths and sightless eyes. My only hope is that I do not turn out like them. I pity them and detest them in the same thought. Let them only be a part of this delusion and not a reflection of me.
ViolinI remember the day
you told me violins
were strung with cat gut
and that is why
you hated music
(who says that to a child?)
I followed you
all that summer.
I watched you
grow away from mother -
your whiskey held better conversations
and all she did was cry.
We'd sit cross-legged on the porch
and count the horseflies
settling on our lunch.
You would drown tadpoles
in a bucket
surprised they could not swim
and I would dream
of cherry popsicles.
And when night would gather
on the sidewalk
I'd hold my breath
until a star appeared.
Don't bother making wishes
you'd tell me -
stars are dead weight in heaven
and God has cloth ears.
My School Says I'm Worthless (sort of a rant)I'm a criminal because my values aren't their values
And I'm scum to say the least
Because I'm not on their list
Ones who have their lives set out
And drink from molten glory raining down from
School top balconies...
And I have myself left to blame for all the non-attempts
And truancies; the bleak distractions
That help me escape the inviolable test-score stares
Of disapproval that I attract from their
And they're forced to ask me 'Why?
Why are you still here?'
And I can barely say
That I'm afraid to leave.
That I know that no-one knows
Or what they want to be
But unlike those
I gave up
A while ago
And they can't tell me to my face that I'm a failure so they heavily imply
That my lacking presence
And even less impressive
Tendency for slacking off is evidence
That I am stupid and a fool and nothing more than such a waste of resources
And it's a disappointment
That I don't hold their ideals
VesselYour heart is a compass.
Broken, perhaps, but I know
It’s always searching for the North Star.
Which way will your beard point tonight?
DanielYou are vertebrae
reinforced with titanium
that does not make you the lesser -
You’ve got the weight of the world
on one shoulder
sometimes you trip because of it -
you’re still walking
and if things fused wrong
post or anterior
and if things fused out in the interior
your circuits live on
and if your thoughts get circular
or so do your moods
and your mind blanks and you forget -
you’re nervous but strong -
then I’ll remind you.
Because you give me
the backbone required
you’re my Atlas, so I lift my head,
you’re my axis, so I can face the future
because you are vertebrae
reinforced with titanium.
You’re my inner strength.
FallingFailure after failure
A life not worth living
Lost in my misery
Long gone are the good moments
I keep falling
Nothing can save me now
Gone my hopes are
Because He'sHe’s listening
Millions of them.
A flash of red
And a navy hat
No warning – now motionless
With skin turned to shadows.
Child of the DarknessI look at my reflection, what do I see?
A dark painted portrait,
longs to be free.
The scars in my vision
I breathe eternal, eternally chased.
My soul is disfigured,
cold hands, are unclean.
So close to fiction,
too close to be seen.
Scented and painted,
but covered in blood.
Here in this ecstasy,
an all-natural drug.
Perfect pale white skin,
Impurities run deep.
My own body dead now,
for my new soul to keep.
Covet the darkness,
and burn in the light,
Here I shall remain.
Your child of the night.
[transmissions of a dead girl]i am the
moon: i am
the silver pill
to weigh down
into leaden eyes--
i am the
of the dark.
the stars are
all dead in their
you'll be safe, dear,
as i am the moon,
with all of your
(i am good bye and yet,
you think only of romantic
i am the moon.
i am the crescent
and dead altogether,
i still die.
All Here For A ReasonI turned onto a shady, well-manicured driveway that, for all intents and purposes, looked harmless enough. Maple trees lined both sides of the street, and a parade of Canadian geese marched across the road to a wide duck pond with a flamboyant fountain. There were blooming crepe myrtles and rose-of-sharons, and as I grew closer to my destination, neatly trimmed gardens with neatly trimmed bushes.
I stopped to let the geese pass. They looked at me; one hissed. I honked my horn and moved around them.
At the end of the road sat a collection of grayish buildings and a number of signs directing me to the appropriate parking lot. "Welcome to Ten Creeks Hospital," said one of them. "Please enjoy your stay." I parked in the visitor's lot. Surely I wouldn't be staying.
I was shaking when I got out of my car. I had spent the morning getting high. One foot in front of the other, flip-flop noises, hot sidewalk. Mulberry and magnolia trees, freshly shaved grass. A bench and pan for smokers. A set o
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